


Wasted and Weak

by ShianneUrami



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Fisting, Masochism, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:43:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShianneUrami/pseuds/ShianneUrami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gamzee is a whirlwind of a troll. He is confusing and pathetic, and Kanaya hated him so much for all that he was and did. Oh how she hated that juggalo troll.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wasted and Weak

“You motherfucking prude!” He growled, “Kanaya, please.” The last word was laced with lust, but also something smaller, more desperate. Not the sexual desperation, but rather he was desperate to have her take all he had away from him. Kanaya knew this. She’d known it for so long. But knowing did her no good. She could never wrap her head around just what to do to help. Or to hurt him the way he wanted without killing him. Which is something she feared he wanted too.

Her voice was hoarse when she did speak up, “Fine.”

His head fell back, his shoulders sagging and she knew he wanted to thank her. Thank her for this. For agreeing to this mess. This mess currently, between them and across them, and the mess he was overall. And he was such a glorious mess. On some level she wanted to help, but only if to make sure he didn’t expire before his time. He didn’t say anything after that. 

Her bulge coiled languid and slow against his thigh, colder than she was. In more ways than just blood. She traced fingers and trimmed claws over his nook slowly. She had always kept them rounded for Rose’s sake. Which had made her mouth and teeth her greatest asset. Not that that’d been a huge issue. 

And it helped when he asked her to do this. No. He demanded, and then added a plead. 

This confusing, gross troll. She hated him so much. Why could he never be simple? Simple was easy to manage. And this troll laying under her, was anything but easy to manage.

He growled impatiently, watching her through the hair hanging greasy and thick in his face. His paint was smeared and his neck was splotched purple with bruises and blood and lipstick. His claws scraped across the floor, making her cringe.

Kanaya dug her claws into the meat of his thigh, “You will be patient with me, and you will get what you want.”

Gamzee snarled at her, but resigned and give up, closing his eyes and he waited. Two fingers, then a third. A fourth and she could see the pale purple tears just barely prickling at the edge of his eyes.

Her thumb rolled over the base of his bulge, her hand pushing in and out with his breaths, harsh and deep, but not anything that would damage him. She held his thigh, rounded claws drawing crescent marks.

Gamzee squirmed, claws across the metal floor. “Kanaya, quit stallin’!”

She kept with her pace though, not yet adding what he wanted. She had to work herself up to that just as much as him. Black was painful, but potentially mutilating genitals was off the table. It would be wonderful if the world could forgive her hesitance to fist her spade.

“How much do I gotta beg Maryam? Just do it already.” Gamzee groaned, back twisting with her thrusts up into him. Her toes curled and her bulge coiled heavy, her nook dripping jade down her thighs at his display.

Jesus, he just wasn’t fair. Simplicity escaped this troll and frustrated her to no end. She pulled her fingers from his dripping nook, his color staining her hand. Kanaya clenched her fist tight, as small as she could get it before pushing it into him slowly. A low keening desperate sob escaped his thoat, body taunt.

A shuddering sigh, proper breathing having escaped him after she’d added the fourth in which felt like sweeps ago already. He let his body sag slowly, working his muscles loose after that shock to his system. Legs spread wide, hips pulled open and nook so full. The skin was tight around his ribs, shivering and exposed.

She worked him slow and shallow before he nodded at her, catching him by surprise. The slick squelch of her fist in his nook made her squirm and Gamzee writhe.

“Mmmotherfuuck~” He moaned, eyes rolling back and voice cracking.

Panting and shivering, unrestrained moans and curses, pushing back against her fist impatiently. Hissing through clenched teeth, his nook rippling around her, dripping his chill along skin and metal. Kanaya bit her lip when he groaned her name, reaching to let her own bulge twine between her long fingers. She pressed deep, moving her fingers ever so slightly and he screamed, hoarse and ragged. Tapering into a small whine of pleasure, jaw slack, drooling and sobbing against the pleasure and pain.

“More.” He croaked, pushing against her.

Kanaya looked him over, the obscene stretch of his nook around her arm.”You- you can’t be serious.” She hissed, moving to pull her hand free. Gamzee growled and she stopped. “Makara, how in all of Alternia do you expect me to give you more?”

Heaving breaths, his voice quiet and tired, “I want your bulge in me.” With wide eyes she looked herself and her spade over, her blood pusher slamming hard against her thorax.

Kanaya couldn’t deny she reveled in the feel of his chill around her, but alongside her fist?! She was going to split him in half!

“Come on sis, what are you waiting for? Just do it. It’d be easy.” So easy? She’d rip him in half! But, maybe that was what he meant. It’d be so easy to rend him useless. His words struck a chord with her and she wanted to run. Or deck him in the teeth for being so fucking stupid.

She did neither, “And how do you suppose that would be?”

He groaned in frustration, “Could’a sworn you had at least half a pan Maryam.”

He leveled his eyes with her, a sheen of sweat across his brow. He still pushed back against her fist inside him, “Take that hand outta me, wrap those pretty motherfucking digits ‘round your bulge, and get back to it.”

Gamzee rocked up against her, angry and desperate. But for all his anger and swearing, there was only ever a mess of uncertainty under the surface. She wanted nothing more than to tear away his masks, his layers of paint and bare that fear to the world. Oh how she hated how he tried so hard to hide.

He couldn’t just be who he was. He hated who he was and who she was and so many other things. He was just a troll driven by hate and fear and reluctance and guilt. He was a goddamn mess and everyone knew it, but Kanaya was the only one to ever be able to work up the gumption to act on it. And even now she paled in the face of who he was. Still just a wiggler begging for attention but pushing so hard to keep himself isolated. Why was it so hard for him to just ask for help?

Kanaya pulled herself up, her bulge running along his skin. She leaned over to hiss at him, “I will do this. But you have to promise me one thing.”

He snarled at her, opening his mouth to outright refuse.

She grabbed a fist full of his hair, “You have to promise me right here, and right now-” She flexed her fingers inside him, pulling a ragged gasp from him, “That you will speak with Rose.”

He shifted under her, shaking his head in her grip, “Got nothing to say to those heretics ‘cept a greeting from the side of my club.”

“You will speak to Rose about this. All of this. This horrid state you insist on keeping yourself in. Mentally and physically. You’re disgusting Makara, and I’ll only do this, if you agree to do that. Is that clear enough for you?” Kanaya yanked his hair, getting his attention again. “Do you understand me Gamzee?” She moved to pull out of him again and he growled, snapping his teeth at her, “Fucking fine! Do it, please!” Kanaya bit down into his shoulder, licking the blood when she pulled away.

Actually pulling herself free took a tug, and another rough scream. He’d tightened up around her while she’d been working, and the pop made her shiver. Gaping and empty he bucked his hips against nothing, a low whirr in the bottom of his chest, impatient and upset. Coated in purple, she wrapped her hand around her own bulge, running along the length a few times before she let the tip flick against his still loose folds. He shuddered, muscles tight in anticipation.

“You tighten up and it’s going to hurt. Are you ready for that?” She was honestly asking him if he was okay with the pain.

She was asking her spade if he was alright with her hurting him. She felt almost sick for it. The troll under her made her life so damn difficult sometimes!

He watched her through his hair, “I want it.” He said, voice ice cold.

Something twisted inside her and she tried to squash it down, but it gnawed at her, pulling at her. What it was exactly, she couldn’t place, but it scared her.

Instead of doing the logical thing and trying to figure out what this was, what was scaring her, she did what he wanted. She held the end of her bulge, squeezing around herself to the point it brought the pain she needed, her fist as small as she could make it, and pushed back inside the highblood. He screamed and shook and cried, and she held his hip, dragging claws into his flesh, pushing in deep and loosening her fingers, rolling her knuckles inside him. She didn’t give him time to adjust to the new stretch.

Kanaya unfolded her fingers, shifting against his tight nook enough that her bulge could slip through her fist. She never let him adjust, taking what little pleasure she could in this. He wanted this, and as long as she wasn’t ripping him open, which would be so easy from here, then it was alright if he was in pain. Spades reveled in pain. Gamzee craved it like no other she knew. If he wanted to badly to hurt, she’d give him that. Fucking her own hand inside him, rocking gently as she went.

Her bulge pushed past her hand, farther up into him, her hips as close as she could get with her arm between them. It licked across his insides, thrashing in her grip. She bit her lip, panting quietly, trying to keep some kind of composure in this mess. One of them had to. Kanaya pushed into him and he pushed back, working all she gave into him in as deep as he could get it. It was awful, and terrible, but this is what the two had. It’s what they’d always had. And likely what it would always be.

It all didn’t take very long, not long at all. Gamzee was a sobbing mess under her, and she was too lost in it herself to pull apart if it was good or bad. Tears for pain or tears for pleasure? Or was it the fact that she was hurting him that made him so happy?

Frustrated Kanaya pushed up into him hard and he snapped, back arching and a scream echoing through the halls like she was splitting him in half. She might as well have been.

Purple flooded out around her hand, coating his thighs and soaking her knees, her skirt having been set into her sylladex, his pants laid off to the side, a tear in the leg which she couldn’t recall had been from before or during their scuffle. With the added slickness she pulled herself free easily. He went limp without her to keep him up, laying in his own genetic material, sweat and shame.

She looked him over with a somber eye, unsheathed and dripping, but nowhere near aroused. Honestly, she felt like she might be sick.

Panting and exhausted he laid still, watching her through the haze. Emotionally and mentally ragged herself she pulled herself up on shaking legs, wobbling at the knee. He watched her, but said nothing. Never asked if she wanted something in return, never asked if she was alright, never even a thank you. She unlocked a rag from her sylladex, wiping herself clean before tossing it to him to do the same, if he wanted to that was. He would lay in his own filth and she knew it, but at least she offered.

Kanaya resheathed without release, an uncomfortable pressure on her gut, but she already felt ill, so it wasn’t actually anything worse. Looking at him left a bad taste on the back of her tongue. Not just because he was so terrible broken down and useless, but because she was so caught up in the whirlwind that was Gamzee motherfucking Makara. He oozed pathetic, and he was so very pitiful, but she hated him so much for it all.

Her insides twisted looking down at him. “You will keep your promise.”

It wasn’t a question.

He had promised and she was simply reminding him of his promise. He would make due on that promise. Or he wouldn’t. And she’d be back here, trying anything she could think to help him.

She pulled her skirt out of her sylladex, buttoning it up the side after she slipped into it. With a heaving sigh Gamzee rolled over onto his side, curling up, too tired to do much else.

“Gamzee.” She addressed him quietly.

He didn’t move, didn’t even look at her.

She hovered for a moment or two, unsure whether it would be better if she stayed or left. Eventually she turned and left him there in the darkness of the halls and his own head, pulling her lipstick free. With Gamzee’s name tainting her lips, she painted a thick coat of black overtop of it. Maybe to cover it, or maybe to protect it. Whatever the case was, she left him there that night, the both of them sick with guilt and hatred. For themselves and each other and the world.

He made due on his promise and was laying at the end of Rose’s bed the next night when they woke up, a tired and forced sneer on his lips.


End file.
